


Closer

by yamtempura



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Breathplay, Comeplay, Dubious Consent, Light BDSM, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 18:55:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamtempura/pseuds/yamtempura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yunho can't give Changmin what he needs, so he finds someone who does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Wow what is this. It's basically a direct sequel to [ this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1017240). Head the warnings thanks. Dedicated to [Mika](http://leftfoottrapped.tumblr.com/) as per always.

Yunho likes mornings. He likes the late mornings that most would call evenings when the bright lights of Seoul flicker over the darks of Changmin’s eyes and the shining of his teeth as they grin at each other over bottles of soju, he likes the sharp smell of asphalt and industry and alcohol as Changmin kisses him outside of their apartments, hungry and promising and he feels the zip of arousal snap through him as Changmin’s fingers dig just short of painful into his bicep. 

Yunho also likes the early mornings when sunlight or moonlight or just the light they forgot to shut off in the kitchen the night before throws Changmin’s features into stark relief, and yet his expression is so open and peaceful and calm, his eyes closed so his eyelashes fan over cheekbones made sharp by shadow, his mouth soft and parted just slightly, that Yunho wants to capture him and keep him this happy and this _safe_ for eternity. 

Yunho even likes the mornings where they are rushing around, trying to prepare for some schedule and Changmin is growling at him that if he just kept his things _neat and organised_ they wouldn’t be have to be so hurried and he can only smile sheepishly, knowing that he was right and yet being unable to follow through on it, always finding something more important to do than clean (schedule-shopping- _Changmin_.) 

“Come _on,_ hyung,” Changmin yells from where he’s putting on his shoes at the front door. 

Yunho smiles and tosses back another mouthful of coffee as he passes his cup at the kitchen table, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. 

... 

“He works so hard at everything,” Yunho gushes, looking over at him. Changmin has a sardonic smile on his face, like he was unimpressed with Yunho’s words, but Yunho could see the flicker of honest thankfulness in his gaze. 

“He has grown from such a talented dongsaeng to an even more talented partner,” Yunho continues, wanting to brag, wanting everyone to see, to know, the admire Changmin the way he does, the way Changmin _deserves_. 

“Growing more handsome too,” Changmin interjects with a wide smile. 

“More handsome than me,” Yunho laughs along, more serious than Changmin probably realises. 

It’s true though – when Yunho looks at him, there’s only a ghost left of the awkward sixteen year old who used to gaze at him like he was some sort of untouchable being. 

No, Yunho thinks as Changmin slams him against the wall of the change room, sharply biting the balm off his lips, holding his hands uselessly above his head, making him moan against him, _yearn_ for him, Changmin is all grown up. 

... 

He loves how much Changmin doesn’t compromise himself for anything. He enjoys Changmin’s bark (almost as much as his bite), and he keeps a running catalogue of all of Changmin’s different smiles – the embarrassed by his hyung smile, the happy for the fans smile, the unbridled childish joy of winning smile (even if it was something as simple as a bet about when dinner was arriving), the little cunning smile he wears right before he pushes Yunho into the mattress – Yunho has memorised all his angles and wouldn’t change a single one. 

… 

Yunho knows Changmin. He knows how he likes his coffee. How he likes his steak. 

How he likes his sex. 

So when a couple of nights pass where Changmin is oddly hesitant, his holds not as steady, his movements slightly unsure, Yunho is more concerned than anything. 

“Changmin-ah,” he breathes as a question, the sweat already cooling on his body. 

“I don’t know,” Changmin snarls, but Yunho sees the worry in his eyes, the horror that maybe he hasn’t satisfied him because he certainly isn’t satisfied himself, the confusion about not knowing what is wrong. 

Yunho thinks he knows. He knows from the little hitch in his throat when Yunho holds him a little too tight. He knows when Changmin arches on the verge of _needy_ when Yunho scores light pink marks down his back with his nails. 

But he can't give him what he truly needs. So he just cuddles up to his warmth ( _Still the body heat of a kid_ , he teases with a grin, feeling Changmin’s muscles relax as he holds him back with a sneer on his face and gratefulness in his eyes) and _plans_. 

... 

Jaejoong has grown even more beautiful since Yunho last saw him, brimming with confidence and the slink of someone who knows they could get anything they wanted from anyone, given the opportunity. Yunho is proud of him – he likes the fact that Jaejoong is graceful angles and razorblade beauty, sex and danger. He likes that Jaejoong is _himself_ , not some company image. 

But even with his stunning looks on display like a warning label ( _look, touch, I dare you_ ), his smile is as bright and wide and guileless as always when he joins Yunho for cake and coffee. 

They chat about the industry, about cars and clothes, easy things that bring back comfortable times. 

It’s not until the waitress brings them their second cup that Yunho brings up the reason he called to invite him. 

“Jaejoong-hyung, you and Changmin,” he states calmly, drinking his coffee black (he’s been told to watch his weight again.) “You used to fuck.” 

“Yes,” Jaejoong replies immediately, no falsity, no guilt or shame. He puts both sugar and cream into his coffee, and Yunho purses his lips, slightly envious. 

“You used to hurt him.” 

This time, Jaejoong’s lips twitch upwards. “Yes.” 

Yunho takes another sip, wondering whether he should pick up a bag of the café’s coffee for Changmin back home. It really was delicious. “Would you like to again?” 

Jaejoong’s eyes glitter. 

... 

“Hyung, how many times do I have to tell you to not leave your shoes –” Changmin stops mid-sentence when he sees who is sitting with him. 

Jaejoong twists out of his seat at the kitchen table like a cobra, his previously pleasant expression hardening into something sharp and amused and _dangerous_. 

“Hello, Changminnie,” he greets him with a smile made of razors. 

Changmin just stares at him a beat, eyes wide, before turning his accusing glare onto Yunho. 

“What is _he_ doing here?” 

Jaejoong is in front of him in a flash, oozing lethal grace, and gripping Changmin’s chin in his hand so tightly the skin around his fingertips blanche. 

His voice however is mild. “Now, now, Changminnie, is that anyway to greet your favourite hyung?” 

“You are _not_ my favourite,” Changmin spits lava, reaching up and tearing Jaejoong’s hand away, however not before Yunho catches the flash of unbidden light in his eyes. 

Changmin turns his furious gaze back to Yunho, his eyes demanding answers and an explanation and... 

Permission? 

“I invited him,” Yunho says softly. 

There is a slight softening of Changmin’s expression, although it is gone so fast that if Yunho hadn’t been watching him so closely, he would have missed it. 

“I don’t care,” he sneers, “he can get the fuck ou–” 

A ringing slap echoes through the kitchen, Changmin’s head snapping back, red blooming across his left cheek. Yunho can’t control his gasp. 

Jaejoong’s fingers are like a vice on Changmin’s jaw again, as he leans close to run his tongue lightly over the mark. “Such an impolite dongsaeng,” he croons. Yunho watches as Changmin’s breathing quickly grows erratic. 

“We have a photoshoot in a few days,” Yunho informs Jaejoong, an odd note in his voice, evident even to himself. 

Jaejoong just smiles. “Don’t worry; Changmin will come up with an excuse.” He catches the fist that comes flying towards his gut and digs his nails into Changmin’s wrist until the other man breaks with a whine, flinching downward. “You were always good at excuses, weren’t you, Changminnie?” 

As Yunho watches, careful to keep his expression neutral, even if he can’t entirely stop the flush that is making him feel so, so hot, Jaejoong throws Changmin to the floor and straddles him, slamming his hands into the tiles, making Changmin cry out in pain as his knuckles connect hard. 

“I like this new respectability, all these _adorable_ button downs,” Jaejoong smirks, flickering long, pale fingers down the front of Changmin’s shirt. “What’s the matter, Minnie? No longer proud of your tits?” 

“Fuck you!” Changmin snarls, his fists coming up again, his lips already flecking with spit and Yunho is simply _entranced_ by this side of him he has never seen. 

Jaejoong just rips open Changmin’s shirt with an almost frightening show of strength, sending buttons peppering across the floor, and manoeuvres it so that Changmin’s hands are rendered useless, trapped, his shoulders twisted awkwardly on the floor. 

Satisfied, Jaejoong sits up, running a nail down the hollow of Changmin’s breastbone. His fingers capture flesh just left of Changmin’s nipple and suddenly twist, and Changmin is arching, a loud wail emerging from his throat and Yunho is shaking, but he doesn’t know why. 

“Hmm, you don’t bruise nearly as prettily as you used to,” Jaejoong hums, his eyes hooded and fever bright, rocking against him. His tongue catches against his teeth, his smile wild and feral as he leans down. “I guess that means I get to hit harder.” 

“I don’t fu–” Changmin breaks off again with a low gurgle of pain as Jaejoong’s rings leave deep red welts on his ribs. 

Yunho watches them, wide-eyed, frozen to his chair. Changmin is obviously furious, but lurking behind that, Yunho also sees the brief flicker of pure arousal. It only takes a quick glance to Changmin’s pants to see him already straining, more than half-hard. 

Jaejoong follows Yunho’s gaze and giggles, smoothly sliding backwards until he is over top of Changmin’s thighs, eagerly pulling his pants down, exposing Changmin’s cock, as hard and angry as he is. 

“Ooo, even this has grown a little,” Jaejoong croons, dragging a sharp nail up the red flesh, seemingly amused as precum slides down the flared head to drip onto Changmin’s belly. Changmin just closes his eyes and turns his face away, shame and lust both riding high colour on his cheekbones, and Yunho wants to cradle his face and kiss this new curve of his mouth. However, this is all about Changmin, not him, so he just crosses his legs, folding his hands in his lap so no one can see how much they are trembling. 

“Gonna make you sing for me, Changminnie,” Jaejoong lilts in promise, his finger still tracing over the length of Changmin’s cock. 

Yunho can’t tear his eyes away as Jaejoong plays Changmin like a finely tuned instrument, his snarls and acid often intermingled with soft throaty noises and whines. Yunho’s cock _aches_ but he refuses to touch himself, not wanting to contaminate the scene playing out in front of him. 

“You want to be fucked, don’t you?” Jaejoong asks in a voice like molten silver and Yunho yearns to respond, _yes, do it, yes!_ but bites his tongue so hard he is surprised he doesn’t taste blood. 

“Like hell!” Changmin says, but Yunho can read the lines of his body and how he is arching and how his irises are blown wide with lust and Yunho knows Changmin and Yunho knows himself and Yunho just _knows_. 

Jaejoong sees it too and yanks Changmin’s pants to his knees, rough and pushes his knees to his chest, scratching his nails slick and hard up Changmin’s ass, and Changmin hisses and moans, but his struggles have become more perfunctory than earnest, arching and twisting when Jaejoong’s rings land bruisingly on the back of his thighs. 

“Prep?” Yunho asks, his voice breathless and rough, not sounding like himself. 

“Oh, Changminnie doesn’t need prep,” Jaejoong replies with a dagger of a grin. He lines his cock up with Changmin’s ass and with a single push is deep inside as Changmin howls to the ceiling and Yunho tastes the sound in his throat like some sort of fine drink. 

Jaejoong fucks him hard and without mercy as Changmin cries and Yunho pants, his fingernails digging halfmoons into his palms. 

“God, you feel just as good as I remember,” Jaejoong sighs, stroking Changmin’s thigh almost lovingly. “Fuck.” 

Changmin just snarls, tears trickling down the sides of his eyes to dampen the hair at his temples. His cock is drooling just as much. 

“Ah Minnie, you are so fucking good,” Jaejoong sighs, his eyes closing and his head thrown back, looking like a golden god, a fine sheen of sweat coating him into gorgeousness as he fucks him into the floor, gripping his hair in tightly, pulling and yanking seemingly at random. 

“I hate you,” Changmin spits out, but there is no heat behind the words, his eyes hooded and his lips bitten swollen and red. 

Jaejoong hums, practically glowing, and he pulls out of Changmin (the groan that slides out of Changmin’s throat shoots straight to Yunho’s cock) and slicks his hand over his equally beautiful cock until he is striping Changmin’s chest with his cum, his body rolling and arching. 

Changmin groans and ruts up hard, needy and desperate, his cock red hard and swollen, and Yunho can almost taste it in his mouth, heavy and hot and salty against his tongue. 

“Wanna cum, Changminnie?” Jaejoong smirks, sliding his softening cock through the cum on Changmin’s chest. “You gonna cum while I fuck your tits like the good little slut you are?” 

“Fuck,” Changmin slurs, looking desperate and broken and Yunho wants him to finish. Yunho _needs_ him to finish. “ _Fuck_.” 

“Jaejoong-hyung, please,” he begs for him, his voice deceptively mild and steady considering how bright white his knuckles are in his lap. 

Jaejoon just chuckles and reaches back to slide his long, dangerous fingers to grip Changmin’s cock, jerking him hard and fast, sinking his teeth hard into Changmin’s chest, until Changmin is wailing, the veins in his throat standing out starkly against the dark marks that Jaejoong has left, looking debauched and broken and _beautiful_ in Yunho’s eyes. 

Finished, Jaejoong stands up fluidly, tucking himself back into his pants with a sigh of contentment and looks sharply at Yunho. 

Yunho manages to smile at Jaejoong, and nods. He nods back, gives one last fond, sharp smile at Changmin lying, panting on the floor, and then he is gone. 

Yunho immediately drops to Changmin’s side, undoing his hands, pressing soft kisses against the tear tracks by his eyes, the spittle-flecked mess of his lips. 

“You did so well, Changdol,” he murmurs, in love with him more than ever. He helps him to stand, holding him under the shoulder when Changmin’s legs are as shaky as a newborn deer, and takes him to the bedroom, trying to tell him exactly how he affected him. “You were so perfect, so lovely.” 

Starting at his face, he uses a cool cloth to clean him off, pressing his pride and his love into every mark on Changmin’s skin with his hands and his mouth, starting from the light purpling on his cheek all the way down to the scratches on his ankles, moving slowly and purposefully, needing Changmin to realise how he was claiming every mark. 

By the time he is finished, Changmin is fast asleep, his brow smooth and more peaceful than Yunho has seen in days. Yunho presses one last butterfly kiss to his lips and curls up beside him. 

… 

“Hyung, what is that smell?” 

Yunho turns and smiles at Changmin, looking beautiful and only half awake, his hair sticking up on one side and his eyes still not quite open. 

“I made pancakes!” Yunho explains brightly, pointing to the slightly askew stack on a plate in front of Changmin’s seat. There’s also a glass of coffee (just how Changmin likes it), syrup (Changmin’s favourite flavour) and a single daisy in a vase (he knows it’s cheesy, but he thought it appropriate.) 

Changmin stares at the table setting, then back at Yunho, then sees the blackened pan in the sink. His eyes widen. 

“My pan!” 

Yunho’s smile only grows as Changmin begins to fuss at him. He likes these mornings. 

… 

Yunho can’t see anything. 

Oh but he can _feel_. 

“Do I fill you good, hyung?” Changmin whispers, his breath wet and hot against his ear. 

Yunho moans, tugging against the restraints that hold his arms, his head falling back as Changmin’s thrusts take him deeper. His cock is so thick and hot and he does fill him good. He fills him _perfectly_. 

“Yes,” he manages to hiss out, never wanting him to stop. This was what they had been missing, the burn, the rub, the sparks. Changmin is magnificent and on fire and Yunho wants to see him, wants to watch his muscles flex as he drives into him so hard, but the blindfold is in the way, and Yunho is reduced to nothing but touch and smell and sound. 

Changmin’s fingers slide around Yunho’s stretched entrance, sloppy and open from Changmin’s lipsteethtonguefingerscock, and Yunho moans, all wanton need and lust for him. 

A hand is on his throat and all at once, he can’t breathe. His mouth opens uselessly in protest, but Changmin just licks his lower lip and tightens his hold a minute bit more, his hips snapping painfully hard against Yunho’s ass. 

“If you ever invite him here again, I will tie you up like this and leave you for a _week_. Understand?” Changmin’s promise is grated harsh and hot against the skin of his jaw and Yunho wants to respond, but all of his thoughts are being focused like a laser to the rough slide of Changmin’s cock into his asshole. In and out, in and out, _oh_ and _god_. 

“ _Understand_?” Two of Changmin’s fingers slide in alongside his cock, and Yunho’s thighs lock, vibrating, the burn too much. His mind is a mosaic of colour and the need to cum and his eyes are rolling to the back of his head, and heat is travelling through his spine and he’s going to explode, but somehow, _somehow_ , he manages a nod. 

Suddenly, the hand at his throat is gone, and Yunho is no sooner sucking in a lungful of oxygen, and then he’s cumming, hard and long, his throat too ragged and sore for a true scream, his entire body trembling as he empties out over his own belly. 

Changmin curses, and grabs hold of his thighs, his fingers digging in painfully, using Yunho’s body to chase his own orgasm and Yunho can only sigh in completion as Changmin fills him so full, his cum scalding against his insides. 

Then Changmin is pressing soothing kisses to Yunho’s mouth, nipping him lightly, his tongue a brief caress, and Yunho kisses him back, humming, pleased, before they eventually break again for air. 

“Thank you.” 

The words are whispered so quietly next to Yunho’s ear, he almost misses them. 

Later that evening, there is no light filtering into their bedroom, but Changmin is still curled up into his chest, his sleeping breathing warm and steady against his skin as Yunho slowly runs his fingertips through the ends of his hair. Yunho feels the burns on his wrists and wonders when he will have to call Jaejoong again. 

He smiles. 

**Author's Note:**

> /jetpacks into space


End file.
